Page 5 of Cry of Blood and Joy
His fingers trembled slightly as he slipped the straps of my red sundress off my shoulders, his touch reverent and careful, as if I might break. The fabric whispered against my skin as he gently pulled down the bodice, revealing my breasts to the cool air. I shivered, but not from cold—from the way he looked at me, like I was something precious, something worth protecting.
Something fluttered wildly beneath my breastbone as vulnerability washed over me. After everything that had happened tonight, after all the destruction I’d caused, here was Enzo treating me like I was still whole, still beautiful. His tender expression undid me completely, moisture gathering on my lashes.
He shrugged off his jacket with quick, efficient movements, then paused to spread it carefully on the hardwood floor. Even in this moment, he was thinking of my comfort, making sure the rough wood wouldn’t hurt my skin. The simple gesture made my chest tight with emotion.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice strained with hunger and devotion so fierce it could banish ghosts even in this haunted place, making me feel safe.
When he carefully lowered me down onto his jacket, his hands supporting my back, my head, I felt cherished. The cool leather beneath me was soft from years of wear, carrying his scent—warm and masculine and completely Enzo. Being surrounded by that familiar smell made this frightening place feel like coming home.
His lips gently enveloped one of my nipples, sending a shiver down my spine as I arched my back, my fingers weaving through his thick, luxurious hair. The world around us seemed to dissolve, leaving only the sensation of his mouth and the firm yet tender touch of his hands slowly hiking my dress upward, igniting every nerve with anticipation.
He left my breast and moved down my body. His fingers hooked into my lacy underwear and slowly pulled it down between my quivering legs.
“I don’t want to tear these,” he murmured. “I like seeing you in sexy panties.”
Just as I was about to speak—to tell him how much I needed this, needed him—his lips pressed softly against my inner thigh. I inhaled sharply, my words dissolving into a breathless gasp. The unexpected tenderness of his touch caught me completely off guard, making my heart stutter in my chest.
His tongue traced a slow, tantalizing path along my skin, each lingering stroke sending electric shivers racing through my body until I was trembling with a mixture of anticipation and pure need. I threaded my fingers through his dark hair as I tried to anchor myself to something real.
“Enzo,” I whispered, pouring all my love into those two syllables. I wanted to give him everything—all the love and desire that had been building inside me, all the gratitude for howhe’d protected me tonight. The way he touched me made me feel like I was the only thing that mattered in his world.
He carefully maneuvered the delicate fabric of my panties over my sandals, his movements so gentle and deliberate it made my breath catch. Even in his obvious desire, he was still taking care of me, still treating me like something precious. Heat spread through me at his delicate touch—not just from desire but from pure, overwhelming affection.
Every cell in my body yearned for him, craving more of his touch, more of the connection that was making me forget everything except this moment, this man, this overwhelming feeling of being utterly and completely loved.
I wanted to please him, to take care of him for once. After everything he’d done for me tonight—carrying me to safety, protecting me from Angelo, making me feel loved when I felt broken—I needed to give something back. My heart swelled with love and determination as I watched the desire darken his eyes.
As he unzipped his pants and his eager length sprang free, my breath caught at the raw evidence of his need for me. I shifted, rising up on my knees, my fingers trembling slightly as they wrapped around his warm, firm flesh. The intimate contact sent a thrill through me; my turn to make him feel treasured.
I began to move my hand with deliberate strokes, marveling at the silky smoothness of his skin, the way he pulsed beneath my touch. His sharp intake of breath made my heart race with satisfaction. I loved having this effect on him, loved being the one to make him lose that careful control he always maintained.
“I was supposed to pleasure you,” he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice rough with frustrated desire and something deeper—the need to always be the one taking care of me.
I looked up at him through my lashes, my hand never stopping its rhythm. “Let me,” I whispered. “Let me take care ofyou this time. You’ve given me so much; please let me give this to you.”
Gently, I pressed a kiss to the sensitive tip of his flesh, tasting the essence of him on my lips. A thrill of intimacy washed over me as I traced intricate patterns with my tongue, savoring the texture and warmth, the way he trembled beneath my tender caresses. This was mine—this response, this pleasure I was giving him.
His fingers tangled tightly in my hair, not controlling but anchoring himself, and I loved the slight pull, the way it grounded us both in this moment. When he breathed out my name, “Joy, you’re...” his voice breaking with emotion and desire, my heart stuttered in my chest.
The reverence in his voice, the way he said my name like it held magic—it made my chest tight with overwhelming love. Here I was, the girl who’d lost control and hurt her best friend, and yet he spoke my name like I was something sacred. The contradiction between how broken I was inside and how cherished he made me feel was almost too much to bear.
I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, my own shining with unshed tears of gratitude and love. “I’m yours,” I whispered, finishing what he couldn’t say.
With a fluid and deliberate motion, I enveloped his entire length in my mouth, creating a seamless dance of rhythm and sensation. Each movement was a synchronized symphony as he began to thrust, his body harmonizing perfectly with the undulating waves of pleasure I was orchestrating for him. My fingers gently caressed and played with his balls, savoring the smooth, velvety texture that was uniquely his.
He arched his back, every muscle in his body tensing as he reached his peak, and a deep satisfaction bloomed in my chest. I had done this to him, brought him to this moment of complete surrender. With a shuddering breath that seemed to come fromhis very soul, he released into my mouth, and I accepted all of him willingly, intimately.
The taste of him on my tongue was a secret we now shared, something treasured and private between us. Pride swelled within me—not just physical pride, but emotional satisfaction that I could give him this pleasure, this release from all the tension and danger we’d been carrying.
When he looked down at me with eyes dark and heavy lidded, still catching his breath, I felt beautiful. Powerful. Despite everything that had gone wrong tonight, despite the guilt eating at me over Serenity, in this moment I felt like I could be enough for him.
“Now, it’s my turn,” he said, his voice rough with spent passion and growing hunger.
My heart fluttered with anticipation, but also with something deeper—gratitude that he wanted to reciprocate, that this wasn’t just about my need to please him. The way he looked at me, like I was a feast he was about to savor, made heat pool low in my belly and chased away the last lingering shadows of self-doubt.
Chapter Four
Joy
